


Just a Facsimile

by RandyPandy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrom!Inigo, During Main Game, Einherjar - Freeform, Einherjar Xander, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Refs to Inigo's Father Support, implied Selena!Caeldori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25454983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyPandy/pseuds/RandyPandy
Summary: Inigo had always found the Einherjar a little creepy. But why did this one keep insisting on calling him ‘Laslow’?
Relationships: Azur | Inigo & Marx | Xander, Can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic - Relationship, Lazward | Laslow & Marx | Xander, Lazward | Laslow/Marx | Xander
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	Just a Facsimile

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Replicate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369228) by [Ran_E](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ran_E/pseuds/Ran_E). 



> Um. Surprise? I never really considered using Einherjar in fics before, aha...

Personally, the Einherjar made Inigo shudder.

He knew what they were, in theory – special cards supposedly imbued with the spirit of legendary heroes from the past that obeyed their summoner’s every command. He, Lucina, Owain, and the others had had several cards from the Ylissean Palace’s vault, and at the time, they couldn’t afford to be picky.

But that didn’t mean that he had _liked_ having them. It was weird seeing a carbon copy of one’s own ancestor (like Marth), or of a hero whose story he had only _heard_ before (like Alm).

By the time they had gone back in time, they’d lost all of their Einherjar, the cards either destroyed by Risen after the respective spirit had been defeated in battle, or lost in skirmishes and unable to be found by any of them.

Regardless, they were still creepy, especially if they ended up looking intimidating. That was why Inigo had been hiding in his tent after Chrom had managed to obtain a card of an Einherjar that he had never even _heard_ of, but looked rather intimidating and terrifying _regardless_.

Owain, however, apparently knew exactly who it was and had eagerly bombarded Inigo with information. “King Xander of Nohr! One of the crowned monarchs critically acclaimed for defeating the Silent Dragon! …However, Prince Leo, the master of Odin Dark, legendary mage, shall always be the royal one that Owain Dark admires most, though.”

“Then you’d better pray that we find an Einherjar card of them, then, you weirdo.” Inigo had promptly shoved Owain out his tent after that and had taken a deep breath. Gods, when was he going to get over his shyness?

* * *

_“Have you ever heard of Einherjar, milord?”_

_“I have, in passing. We have a few cards locked away, and they’ve been used in a war or two. Why do you ask?”_

_“Ah, they were used in the last war back home, so I was just curious I suppose… do you think that you would ever be immortalized as one?”_

_“Me? An Einherjar? Laslow, don’t speak of things as pointless and impossible as that.”_

_He tried not to smile at Xander’s indignant response, gently pressing a hand to the card he always carried around in his pocket. “I won’t again.”_

* * *

Inigo snuck back towards his tent after a night out in the town, grumbling a little at his (unsuccessful) attempts at a date. It was late, and therefore almost no one was up and about outside of a few guards. He slipped by them, intending to sneak back to his own tent before it was too late, and he was almost there, when he crashed into someone.

“O-Oh, I’m sor…” His eyes met Xander’s – right, his father often used the Einherjar to guard the camps while others slept – and he nearly squeaked and backpedaled. If he played his own cards right, he could get out of here and—

“Laslow?”

At the unfamiliar name, Inigo paused, and glanced back.

The Einherjar- _Xander_ seemed surprised, but happy to see him and reached out to place his hand on his shoulder (it took everything Inigo had to not bolt at that), giving it a squeeze. “It’s you, isn’t it, Laslow? You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes in these unfamiliar parts, dear friend.”

Glancing up at Xander’s eyes, Inigo noted that, despite having that blue glow around him that gave away his status as an Einherjar, there was something warm in both his expression and his tone of voice. In fact, it was so affectionate that Inigo felt a lump in his throat.

Of course, it was all a simulation. Einherjar were not real people, and they certainly didn’t attach themselves to people. Still, Inigo couldn’t help but wonder about this ‘Laslow’ that had clearly been loved by King Xander. The name had been brought up occasionally in the myths that Owain liked to read, and they had noted that Laslow had worked for the Nohrian royal family at the Heart’s request, but the focus had mainly been on the Lords.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, resisting the urge to push Xander’s hand off of his shoulder. “I’m not Laslow.”

Xander seemed confused by that. “Of course you are, Las. You look and act exactly like him.”

That… Inigo didn’t know what to say to that. “I… my name is Inigo Lowell. I’m the future son of Exalt Chrom and Queen Olivia… I’m sorry, but I’m really not who you are thinking of.”

All Xander did was simply shake his head, as if this information didn’t bother him at all. “Of course you are. I know you are.”

Then again, Inigo reminded himself again, Einherjar were simulations. Xander was based off of a real Nohrian King, and had the same memories and personality of the fabled man. He was a man of few words, from what he had seen around the camp, and rarely spoke, and he had certainly never mistaken anyone else for someone he had known before.

Inigo could only assume that he resembled this ‘Laslow’ strongly enough that Xander mistook him for him. The memory and feelings had to be strong for it to be embedded into an Einherjar… truly, this Laslow as a lucky man to have someone like the Nohrian King caring about him.

Xander removed his hand from Inigo’s shoulder, and instead grasped his hands in his own. Inigo blushed a little bit at the rather intimate action, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do take care of yourself, Laslow. I would hate to see you fall here.”

* * *

_“Things have changed so much, so I suppose I can’t hide anymore, Xander. Not from you. Not that I wanted to, haha!”_

_“Laslow… you… You look… your hair, it’s blue… there’s a strange mark in your eye.”_

_“The name ‘Laslow’ was given to me as a means of hiding my identity, and it is one that I am fond of. Please continue to address me by that name. But my true name is Inigo Lowell, son of Exalt Chrom and Queen Olivia, and I am a wayward Prince from a fallen Halidom known as Ylisse.”_

* * *

That… had not gone well.

Inigo had thought that he would feel better after lashing out at his father after Chrom had scolded him for thinking of nothing but women, but after he had managed to limp off to the healers’ tent, get his leg treated, and then head back to his own, he only felt worse.

All of it had been bottling up inside of him for _years_. He was the son of Exalt Chrom, one of the only three Branded children left in the world. His sister, Lucina, was a natural-born leader, easily taking command of armies, of inspiring people with hope. His cousin, Owain, while a little odd, was still sociable and able to command just as well.

Inigo… had always been shy and anxious. Lucina had always fretted over him when they had been children, and once Inigo had realized that she had far too many things to worry about, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to be another thing for her to worry about anymore. Plus, he was a Prince! He had to be strong and never sad!

And thus he had adopted the persona of a constantly cheerful playboy.

But sometimes that got a little too much for him. Like now. He’d been hiding his own pain and suffering for so long that he did it even when he didn’t mean to.

Once he entered his tent, he threw himself onto his bedroll and buried his face in his pillow, closing his eyes as he felt the tears welling up and escaping from him. Gods, what sort of impression had he left on his father just now?

A rustle came from his tent flap and Inigo immediately bit back his sniffling, not facing whoever it was and instead trying to pretend that he was asleep. Maybe whoever it was would go away…

“…Laslow?”

Oh. There was only one person that called him that, no matter how much he had protested otherwise. The Shepherds had all written it off as one of Xander’s quirks, especially after he had started addressing several people by other names.

(If Inigo remembered right, Gaius was ‘Asugi’, and Tharja was ‘Rhajat’. There had been one particularly memorable moment when he’d called Owain ‘Odin’ and had asked him why he wasn’t using magic, which Inigo felt hadn’t helped Owain’s giddiness at how _similar_ he had to look and act to his hero Odin.

But strangest had been Severa ‘Selena’ and Cordelia ‘Caeldori’, since he had kept insisting that _Severa_ was the mother and Cordelia the daughter, no matter how many times everyone told him it was the other way around.

He’d even mistakenly called Olivia ‘Soleil’ and Lissa ‘Ophelia’ once, but had seemed much less certain about them, before using the correct names afterwards. Why he learned Olivia and Lissa’s names and couldn’t learn the others was a mystery to them all.)

He wondered for a moment what Xander was doing there, and was about to tell him to ask him what he wanted when he felt the Einherjar step closer towards his bedroll and place a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

Naga dammit, he thought he’d hidden it well, but a damned _Einherjar_ was able to tell that he was upset. He swallowed, pushing Xander’s hand off as he wiped at his face and sat up on his bedroll. Xander was kneeling beside him, his lips a thin line and his brows furrowed with concern.

Inigo threw a well-practiced smile on his face as he looked at him. “Nothing! I was just, er…” He stumbled for a moment. “I saw a cute maiden earlier! But she rejected me and ran off, aha…”

And exasperated sigh came from Xander, and Inigo chewed on his lip, feeling shy again. Why did he feel like Xander had seen _right_ through him, when no one else that claimed to know him _better_ could?

His fears were confirmed when, in a stern voice, the man said, “Why do you do this, Laslow? Why do you always hide how much you are hurting? Even if you _are_ a shameless philanderer,” gee, thanks, “that doesn’t mean that I worry about you.”

It was… sweet, Inigo noted, and he would have been touched had the concern not been entirely misplaced – Xander worried about whoever this Laslow had been to him (a very lucky man), and not _Inigo_. Still, Inigo’s fake smile fell off his face, and he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. He was good at pretending. Perhaps he could pretend, just this once, that Xander was a confidante. Him not being a real person made it easier to speak.

“…I got into a fight with my father. This might be stupid of me to say, especially in front of someone like _you_ , but… I wish I was a little more confident. That I was a more proper Prince of Ylisse. But _no_ – I’m too gods damned shy and anxious over everything! I have to smile constantly so people don’t worry about me!” Now that he had started, he couldn’t stop. Even if Xander was just an Einherjar, it felt good to talk to somebody that he wasn’t related to. “I flirt without even thinking to cover up how scared I am! Father is sick of it and I’m sure everyone else is too! Why am I like this?! I’m a gods-damned disgrace to the family!”

The tears fell from his face again and he sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “I can fight, but I’m so emotionally weak that Luci and Owain are constantly looking out for me! All the girls that I flirt with hate me! I’m not good at _anything_ that I do! Gods, even if I was like… I don’t know! A thief, or a mage, or a dancer like I’ve always wanted to be, or even some other nobleman’s retainer! I’d still be terrible at that _because I’m not good at anything but killing_!”

“Wrong. You were a great retainer,” Xander said softly, “and the best dancer I had ever seen.”

For some reason, those words made Inigo crack, and he started sobbing into his hands, his body shaking and heaving. They weren’t meant for him. They were meant for whoever Laslow was. He knew that. So _why_ did Inigo feel such a personal connection to that statement?

He felt himself pulled against Xander, the Einherjar wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his head. He was warm, and Inigo felt himself melting into the embrace as Xander patted his back in a manner that… was oddly soothing. How did Xander know what calmed him down?

He wasn’t sure how to feel that he was seeking comfort from someone that wasn’t _real_ , but… it felt nice. Caring. If he closed his eyes and didn’t look at the blue glow around Xander, he could pretend that someone cared enough about him to truly see the real him, to be able to lift him up when he felt down. Tentatively, he gripped at Xander’s sleeve, almost as if afraid that he would fade away.

(Which very well could happen if someone attacked right now, but it was the principle of the matter.)

After a few moments of shakily sobbing into him, he gently wiggled to try to loosen Xander’s grip. Xander was looking down at him with an odd expression on his face, one that he could swear was true concern, before the man wiped at the tears on his face.

“You know,” Xander said slowly. “I was very shy when I was younger, too. I preferred to hide behind my mother’s skirts whenever we were in public.”

 _That_ startled Inigo so much that he stared up at him. This was something that none of the stories of Nohr had mentioned (or at least, as far as he knew). “…You were? But… you’re the _King of Nohr._ ”

“I was. Shocking, I know.” Xander patted him on the shoulder. “I had two methods of getting over my fear. The first was going up to the most terrifying person that I knew and speaking to him.”

…Yeah, no. Inigo wasn’t going to go up to Grima and chat with him. The Fell Dragon would kill him for being Naga-spawn before he even got one word out. He quietly wondered who Xander had considered terrifying. “And… the other?”

“I… whenever I had to face frightening people,” Xander said, pausing, and Inigo could _swear_ that he was blushing, “I pretended that they were… cute, fluffy bunnies.”

That was so unexpected that Inigo started giggling, nearly doubling over in laughter. The thought of someone like Xander, King of the mythological Nohr, who had faced down a dragon himself, pretending that terrifying people were fluffy bunnies… well, it was _not_ something that Inigo would have expected. An annoyed huff came from Xander, but the Einherjar didn’t push him away as Inigo continued giggling.

“Y-You know… that sounds like it’d be effective… Yarne’s a bunny and he’s not scary at all.”

“He is not,” Xander agreed. “Perhaps you should give it a try.”

“I might go ahead and try that, then,” he said with a smile. “…Thank you, your majesty.”

Xander opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it, looking conflicted. “…I… Laslow, I’ve told you that you can call me ‘Xander’.”

“Ah, my apologies, Xander,” Inigo said, trying not to stumble over the name. Xander was a mythological figure, a well-celebrated king, and for him, the prince of a fallen kingdom, calling Xander by name as if they were _equals_ , was… inappropriate. “I won’t forget again.”

* * *

_“Come on! You should smile more, Xander!”_

_“…Excuse me? Did you just-- Have you forgotten your place, Laslow?!”_

_“Ah- m-my apologies, milord. I won’t forget again.”_

_Sometimes, he truly did forget._

* * *

Lowering his weapon, Inigo stared blankly at the injured man on the ground in front of him.

“You’re… not hurt… are you?” Xander wheezed, gaze focused on Inigo. The blue-haired prince’s eyes were wide, a little shocked at what the other had just done.

Granted, Einherjar _were_ ordered to value the lives of the living people over their own… they could just be summoned again, after all. But Xander had been nowhere in sight when Inigo had gotten cornered by that dark mage, and he’d prepared himself for a nasty bout of pain when the Einherjar had appeared in the blink of an eye, throwing himself in between Inigo and the mage, taking the brunt of the attack. This had given Inigo enough time to fire off an arrow from the bow he had been recently picked up.

“I’m fine, Xander,” Inigo whispered, taking a moment to kneel next to him. He’d seen many of the Einherjar fall before – both in his future, and in his present. As disturbing as it was to see them ‘die’ before they faded away, the fact that they weren’t real people and could be summoned again if needed had helped mitigate any guilt. So why was the fall of Xander just now making him feel like a failure?

At his words, Xander seemed to sigh and relax, before he faded away, the Einherjar card reappearing and fluttering to the ground. Inigo felt a wave of emotional pain shoot through him as he scooped the card up and tucked it away – he couldn’t summon him again right away, it needed time to recharge – before he grabbed his sword and jumped back into the fray.

It was odd. Xander had not been a real person, just a facsimile of the real King Xander. And yet…

Inigo couldn’t help but feel the pain of loss as keenly as he had felt every other loss.

* * *

_“…I suppose that you will do as a retainer. Very well. I am Xander, Crown Prince of Nohr, though I am sure you were aware of that. And you are?”_

_And everything slotted neatly into place. “I am Laslow, milord. Just Laslow. A pleasure to meet you.”_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Einherjar:** The exact intelligence and how much "soul" they have is left up to interpretation.
> 
>  **Severa:** As far as this Xander was concerned, Selena married Subaki and had Caeldori with him.


End file.
